


Are You Proud?

by Drug_farm_entrepreneur



Category: Deadly Class (Comics), Deadly Class (TV), deadly class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 10:51:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drug_farm_entrepreneur/pseuds/Drug_farm_entrepreneur
Summary: Marcus hides from the cops and wonders if his parents would be proud of the person he's become.





	Are You Proud?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is the first story I've ever published here and I don't write that often so if it seems all over the place or rushed in places that's probably why lol.

Marcus was sat under a random bridge, far enough away from his usual camp site that the pigs wouldn't think to look, but close enough he could make his way back fairly easily once everything was clear. Down here everything reeked of blood and piss, the concoction that says don't ask and don't stay longer than necessary. Come to think of it, there was probably a high number of diseases hiding in every crevice imaginable. It was fucking gross but when you're in this situation you can't afford to be picky.

The constant running he did nowadays often got him thinking about his parents. About how if they could see him now, would they be proud? Would they still proudly claim him their son? He tried not to think about the answers to those questions. _Fuck it's cold._

He needed to do something with his hands. He could draw? No, usually when he was in moods like this all he could manage to sketch were his parents. Maybe that was a good thing though - he was so young when they died, it was probably a miracle he remembered them so clearly. His dad was tall (although that might just be because Marcus was so little back then), and he had neat dark hair that matched his dark and knowing eyes. By this point the two probably looked quite similar, if you disregarded Marcus' homeless-induced scruffy-ness. His mum was another story. She was probably a head or two shorter than his dad and had long blonde hair that curled around her hips when she let it fall naturally. He definitely got the wild hair gene from her.

His eyes started to water a bit - from the cold or from thinking back to a lifetime ago - he didn't know. Either way he needed a distraction. His journal was stuffed into the bottom of his bag, barely held together after all the months of wear and tear - which was pretty fitting since it contained the most vulnerable parts of his soul. Fuck it. Drawing it is then. A pair of eyes that didn't match one bit stared back at him. One his mothers, one his fathers. Even though they couldn't be more different all you had to do was glance at them and you'd know they fit together as well as any matching set, their long and complicated history evident in the pen strokes.

He paused, stiff as a board as the loud whining of police car sirens went past. This really isn't the best place to squat for the night. Even if it wasn't the best idea to roam the streets right now, moving was probably his best option. He passed the camp just in case it was safe but the place was still crawling with cops and Marcus began to worry they might not let the search go. He wandered off in the opposite direction to the place he calls home.

A white building stood before him, shadowing him in the horrors of his past. He didn't mean to come here but some subconscious part of him must've really wanted to visit the place his parents died. He climbed stair after stair until he got to a reasonable height and stood as close to the edge of the wall as possible. Now was as good a time as any for things to come full circle. Praying would be pretty pointless at this point but he still thought about it. Why though he couldn't be sure, he knew no one worth their two cents would be listening. He edged closer.

"What are you waiting for?"

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr uwu biconmarcus.tumblr.com


End file.
